


Baser

by orphan_account



Series: Amaranthine Nights [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Fridge Horror, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:19:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It's something with the taint</i>, Avernus had said with a shrug. <i>Isn't it always?</i></p><p>Nathaniel has a new and disturbing response to battles with darkspawn. Cauthrien discovers she doesn't mind.</p><p>--</p><p>Rough sex and potentially very squicky associations with darkspawn and broodmothers. Can be considered to take place a year or two after Ash Warriors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baser

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cypheroftyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypheroftyr/gifts).



The ringing in her ears hadn't stopped by the time they stumbled into the small fortification, a broken tower on an Amaranthine hill crest. Her head throbbed in time with phantom marching footsteps, and she groaned as she leaned back against the heavy door. "Maker damn it all," she muttered, beginning to feel each bruise, each raw patch beneath her armor. No cuts, though. Maker willing, no gashes or holes or-

Nathaniel began to tug at the buckles of her armor with a low grunt, and she lifted her arms to let him. He could have kept his distance, but instead he leaned into her, breath hot against her cheek as he worked. He had to be working blind, she thought dizzily. He was too close, and if her ears were still ringing, his eyes still had to be burning from that damn fetid smoke bomb. But leave it to an assassin to work well in the dark, artificial or otherwise, fingers quick and sure.

"We're safe," he whispered into her ear, and she choked down a broken laugh, back arching as she pressed into him.  _Only you_.

"Of course we are," she got out, then hissed as he dropped a piece of her armor to the ground, the clanging too sharp and bright, cutting through the throbbing din of her blood. "I killed the last of them-"

" _We're safe_ ," he repeated, and with another breath she was finally able to parse it. He wasn't just stating the fact - it was an explanation. An invitation.

A threat.

Her own hands found the straps and cords binding his armor, and she fumbled with them far less artfully. He growled in response, catching her lips in a harsh kiss, ignoring the split in her lip and the bruise blooming over her jaw. She could feel the tacky brush of drying blood from what might be a broken nose (though even Nathaniel couldn't ignore that, she thought), the rasp of his stubble. The spread of his overheated skin beneath her fingers as she managed to pry open just a portion of his armor, slipping her fingertips into the gaps in his jerkin.

Sometimes (and not always, it was too dangerous to be always) something (and not everything, because some things were too much even for him, or too little) would set Nathaniel off like this, the strain of battle and the hammering of darkspawn presence setting his blood boiling. It had started down in the Deep Roads when they'd been separated from the rest of their party. An ogre had nearly ripped her head from her body, but once it was down and the buzz in the back of their heads had faded, Nathaniel hadn't been interested in seeing if she was hurt. She wasn't, after all - she was standing and swearing and rolling her shoulders.

And then she was against the ground again, Nathaniel throwing aside words in favor of licking the tainted blood from her lips.

Of course, that was when Oghren and the others had found them, and-

Nathaniel turned her and shoved her against the door of the Amaranthine fort, bringing her back as his teeth found the back of her neck, biting as if it could keep her there. Armor made for an inconvenient barrier - anything that could let Nathaniel in could let death in with it. Where usually he was patient and thoughtful ( _conniving, plotting_ ) and could make the slow parting of metal from flesh something close to rapture, now he seemed just short of clawing it apart.

 _It's something with the taint_ , Avernus had said with a shrug.  _Isn't it always_?

Cauthrien gasped, fingers scrabbling against the door as she felt cold, sharpened steel against the small of her back, up beneath her chain shirt and gambeson. "Nathaniel-" she hissed, tense, boot lifted cautiously to strike back at his knee if something was wrong.

The blade slipped carefully between the waistband of her thick leggings and her skin.

 _"Don't_ ," she warned him, even as the tension gave way to disbelieving laughter. Maker, he was going to-

A quick jerk and he'd sliced through the fabric of her leggings  _and_  her smalls, and she hoped he had some kind of thread and needle on him, because she wasn't hobbling back to the Vigil with her pants around her ankles.

"If," Nathaniel murmured, low against her ear, and she groaned and arched, "it didn't keep you safe for me, I'd never let you wear armor again. It gets in the way too much."

"You're still in there."

She could feel him grin against her ear just before he nipped at it. "Always."

 _It's just a different sort of me_ , he'd explained later, after the third or fourth time.  _More base. I just_ …

Even through the padding, her mail bit into her front as he pressed her firmly to the door, wedging her legs apart, the mass of armor bunched up between the small of her back and his belly. He was hard and had, somewhere in the biting, needy chaos, already freed himself, the length of him pressed up against the cleft of her ass.

_I just need to take you. To…_

He bit at her ear again, then at the line of her throat, dragging his teeth until she cursed and whimpered and rocked her hips back against him. He ground forward against her and then, fumbling but sure, shoved into her heat.

_To corrupt you._

It was something with the taint - wasn't it always?

Cauthrien scrabbled for some kind of hold, but it was the weight and force of him thrusting into her, against her, that kept her still and pinned. The angle wasn't the best and he was rough, but it must have been something with the taint in  _her_ , because she was dripping and groaning and needing every inch of him. She bit back pleas for more, the urge for shuddering debasement coming from a part of her that lurked in nightmares. The part that promised motherhood, if only she would let herself be torn apart and remade.

That shouldn't have made her nipples hard, made her cheeks flush and her mouth hang open. It was sick, and twisted, horrifying at its basest nature, but the thought was unavoidable. It was in her blood.

 _Battle lust_ , Oghren had called it, grinning. But she had known battle lust. She had known how the fire of a fight could follow her home. This was different. This was an act of possession.

Nathaniel's bites hardened, until she was yelping in pain even as she begged for more.

Their voices echoed, harsh and out of place in the abandoned tower. The broken ceiling and walls meant their cries would carry; the other Wardens would find them soon enough, once the confusion of the battle had left all of them. But by then, Nathaniel would be spent (if still exhaustedly eager and needy) and Cauthrien would have put herself back together, and they could all go on ignoring this.

(Avernus would want details, when they returned to the Vigil.)

There was a risk that this meant the taint was moving faster and in different ways. In the early hours of dawn, Nathaniel had asked her what she would do if this meant his Calling was only a year away, two. The answer had been easy:  _whatever has to be done_.

And until then, she would accept these infrequent moments of brutality for what they were - need, desire, and love that had been twisted by the darkness that infiltrated everything else in their lives. And she would crave it all the same, another part of him to grab onto and claim.

Nathaniel's thrusts quickened, jerking out of rhythm, and he was gasping words - her name and apologies somewhere among the rest. Her hips ached, her back screamed from the harsh press of armor, and her belly trembled. She lifted one knee, as if to gain leverage, but she couldn't find a hold, and it slipped back down. Nathaniel's hands were everywhere. His lips were everywhere. The door banged in its casing, and all the myriad injuries from the fight before were forgotten even as they were inflamed, becoming only a part of the cacophony.

Her heart was thundering in her ears as she cried out, writhing back against him, flashes of corruption and groaning dissolution shooting behind her eyelids.

Nathaniel followed with a low, possessive growl, teeth sinking deep enough into her skin to draw blood.

The ringing in her ears didn't stop until long after they had rejoined the others.


End file.
